Ironfall

Chapter 13

Rommel stared at the map. Here I am again, he thought—another desert, another battle. Here I sit, another 550 miles from Cairo, which is the same distance I would have had to travel from my Gazala line positions southeast of Tobruk. When I began that retreat, I never thought I would ever get this close to the Nile River again. What a strange and hard circle Fate has circumscribed for me. How poignant to be here again, and with this second chance after the bitter disappointments of Tunisia and Operation Sturmflut. So now I am to strike another blow at the British with Operation Eisenfall, Ironfall, and with a force about the same size as my old Panzerarmee Afrika, only with much more infantry.

I had so little time in Germany with Lucie and my family. A month ago, I was sitting in my Mammut command vehicle, listening to the rain on the roof, with our guns being the thunder. Seeing Germany again, and my dear Lucie, was good for my soul. Yet even there, all I could think of as I tried to take my rest were the men I left behind; the looks on their faces when I boarded that plane to depart. Something tells me I will see them again one day. My old divisions have a way of finding me, following me in this war. God knows we cannot stay there in Tunisia for very much longer.

I am told Hitler sacked von Funck! That was inevitable. He laid low and minded his business, but it seems he took the reins in this new American offensive, and neither Nehring nor Hitler liked it. Now Manteuffel goes to the Ghost Division, a very capable officer. Who knows, perhaps one or two of those divisions will fight for me again…. Assuming they can be safely evacuated from Tunisia.

And now, what of my place here? Another desert, and I am told that this one is as desolate and arid as Libya. So what do I have in front of me now? The British have dug in on a line from Tartus on the coast, then south of Homs and on to the highlands near Palmyra, and their flank is hanging in the air. There is nothing off their right flank but the empty desolation of the Syrian Desert. They say the Bedu roam that wasteland, looking for any forage or scrub they can find, wandering like spirit nomads, ghosts in the night. Well, I have seen desert. There I was, getting fat and lazy in Tunisia. That place was so well watered that we never had to haul in water with the truck columns.

Rommel pulled off his gloves, sitting at the small wooden table where a map was laid out by his new Chief of Staff Major General Siegfried Westphal. He would miss Bayerlein, but knew Westphal to be a competent man. Kesselring sent him over from Italy, and Rommel passed a brief moment wondering whether Smiling Albert was simply using him to keep an eye on his own doings. He was the youngest man to make Major General in the Army, and good for him, thought Rommel. Now I will put him to work.

He looked over the map, noting the positions of the many infantry divisions presently holding the front. Most were mountain divisions under the capable leadership of General Ludwig Kübler. But there was also a line infantry division, the 31st, with the 34th still arriving on the trains. It would have been there by now, but Rommel made a special request that the 101st Panzer Brigade be sent first. He wanted to flesh out his real offensive force, III Panzer Korps under General Hermann Breith.

The 101st Brigade was a unit that had seen brief service in 1941, with two Panzer Regiments, but now it was completely reorganized, an aberration, as these brigades had not been built out until 1944 as an expedient measure to create fire brigades on the Eastern Front. The panzer battalion, KG Lauchert, had two companies of Lions with the high velocity 75mm gun, and one Schwere company of the newest VK-90 Lion Kings. That tank had been in competition with the Konigstiger for the coveted mass production factory floors. Due to the success of the VK-75, the prototype was approved in late 1942, and a small run of that tank was produced, only 36, before Hitler saw the Challenger II and ordered sweeping changes to the design.

So these tanks, the VK-90s, with an all new 90mm main gun, would be the Last of the Mohicans for that model. The redesigned Lion King would see its armor increased from 100mm to 140mm, and its main gun bumped up from the new 90mm, which was now cancelled, to an all new Pak 44/80 128mm main gun that would become the standard for both the Lion King and the Royal Tiger. That was the same gun that would eventually find its way to the dread Jagdtiger heavy tank destroyer, so its adoption was very practical, owing much to the fact that there were naval guns made of this size, and much tooling already existed, making for quick production. It was capable of penetrating 230 millimeters (9.1 in) of 30-degree sloped armor at 1000 meters, compared to 165mm penetration achieved by the 88mm gun.

At 2000 meters it could penetrate 200 millimeters (7.9 in) compared to 132mm for the 88, and at 3,000 meters it could still defeat 173 millimeters (6.8 in) where the 88 was no longer effective. So this gun marked a dramatic improvement in Panzer firepower, though the real Big Cats that would use it, Konigslowe and Konigstiger, would not take the field until later in 1943. For now, the VK-90 was at the top of the heap, its new 90mm gun equivalent to the 88, but with better striking power out beyond the 2000-meter range. The new Pak44/80 was unique in that it had its PzGr.43 HE Projectile accompanied buy up to three propellant charges. One or two charges could be used when the gun was firing as an artillery piece, but all three would be used when it was in the AT role.

Rommel smiled when he read these reports from Westphal, realizing that his long suffering in the desert against the Challenger II, and his remarkable capture of that single abandoned enemy tank, had done much to spur this development. Now we finally get a tank that has a chance against that monster deployed by the British, he thought.

The 101st Panzer Brigade was a fusion of KG 100 under Major Eberhard Zahn, a bright eyed handsome young officer that had commanded the 33 PzJag Battalion of 15th Panzer in Tunisia. When Rommel learned Hitler was granting his request for this Brigade, he specifically requested Zahn for the Panzer element, knowing he was an energetic and skillful young officer. Zahn had been born in 1910, so he was a man of 33 years, though he looked much younger, and that gift of youth would see him live to be 100 years old, into the 21st Century in the year 2010 when he finally passed away just 36 days after his centennial.

That was the steel in the new brigade, and the flesh and bone were provided by two battalions of Panzergrenadiers under Oberst von Lauchert and Major Breidenbach. Rommel intended to use that unit as a spearhead, to be followed by the powerful Wiking SS Division, but as he looked over the map, he was still not satisfied.

16th Panzer Division… It would have two Panzer battalions of three medium companies, each with 3 light Leopard recon tanks, 15 medium Lions with the 75mm gun, and three of the new VK-90’s, with an all new 90mm main gun. It was the Lion’s answer to the competing Tiger-I, and was a superior design in some respects, with better hitting power and maneuverability. That was only 126 tanks, but the division was augmented by the inclusion of 24 StuIG 33’s, nine Nashorns and a dozen more Marder III’s in the PzJag Battalion, making for a total of 171 AFVs. It then had two Panzergrenadier Regiments of three battalions each instead of the normal two, along with the recon battalion, Pioneers and artillery.

This is a fine division, he thought, but it has been positioned right behind 31st Infantry Division—probably by necessity. It is there to face down all that armor the British have been bringing up, but that will mean I may not have the services of that division when I start Eisenfall. I don’t want my Panzer divisions playing a defensive role, not even to make a well-timed counterattack. The British brought up that armor because they intend to use it to try and retake Palmyra, but I don’t want 16th Panzer there. I want Hillebrand’s division with me when I move south….

So he reached for paper and pen, drafting a personal letter to the Führer, a final request. What he wanted, if it could possibly be found, was yet one more Panzer Division. He knew that after receiving the 101st Panzer Brigade this would likely be denied, but he made a fervent appeal.

The Führer had been ranting about the Italians, noting their many lapses on the battlefield, their useless air force, their navy refusing to sortie its big ships. He had ample ground there to sew his wrath. When he finally settled down, Keitel handed him the note from Rommel.

Hitler would read that letter, sighing heavily. This request seemed at first to be an eerie echo from Rommel’s long retreat in North Africa. Then he remembered that he had already discussed this issue with Zeitzler, and agreed that Rommel would need three mobile divisions for his work in Syria, so this request was something he intended to fulfill. What to send?

There it was, pulled from the East front many months ago, and refitting in Germany. He had thought to position it in France behind Calais, but realized that the division could be put to much better use in the hands of a man like Rommel. It was the 2nd Panzer Division, a good veteran unit, and so he waved all thought of Tunisia away, his eyes still dark with anger. He would not throw good money after bad there. Instead, he quickly sent word to Rommel that his last wish would be granted.

Rommel was elated. The initial timetable for Eisenfall was to launch the offensive on the 15th of March, but Rommel had only just arrived, and now he wanted to wait for 2nd Panzer. 34th Infantry can come last, he thought. It can arrive on the trains after I kick off the offensive. But what will the British do in the meantime? They will certainly see the trains moving all these panzers to Homs. So I will continue to position things to make it seem like I am building up on defense behind the 31st Infantry Division. To that end, I put my experience in building a good defensive Pakfront to use here, just as I did in North Africa against those heavy British tanks. I will position 88s in heavy bunkers, with panzerfaust teams, machineguns, and heavy weapons support, and all behind wire and mines. Let the British face the legacy of their own tank designers.

Then, on the 25th of March, the hot iron falls. The 101st Panzer Brigade will spearhead the attack here, south of Palmyra, and east of these rocky hills. There is only a single British infantry division there, and I will go right through it when the Wikings follow up that attack. Then I give the order to swing the other two panzer divisions east through Palmyra, and south in the wake of that attack. We will follow the rail spur that was built to service ore mining in that region, and then take the road southwest to Damascus. There will be good high ground on my right to post defensive kampfgruppes, and on my left is my old friend—the desert.

He smiled.

The British did not fail to see the deployment of these new heavy forces on the rail lines heading south, and they had been making preparations of their own. The 46th Infantry Division was on the line opposite the German 31st Infantry screening the most direct approach to Palmyra. That was the sector Wavell had used to make his spoiling attack, which had delayed the movement east of two of Guderian’s mobile units. Being a mixed division, that unit had a full tank brigade as its disposal, and behind it was the 25th Armored Brigade.

31st Indian Armored Division still held its left flank, but coming up from Cairo was the newly reconstituted British 1st Armored Division, all the forces that O’Connor had detached from his 8th Army. Its two Armored Brigades were simply renamed the 1st and 2nd, and then the 7th Motorized Brigade rounded that division out. Behind it, just off the transports coming in to Beirut from Benghazi, was the 50th Northumbrian Infantry Division.

“We’ve finally got the troops in hand to mount an offensive,” said Alexander. “Now we’ve all of five armored brigades, and the Northumbrian division gives us a little more push. I’m calling it Operation Gladiator. It has a rather nice ring to it, eh?”

“I wouldn’t be too quick to start pushing here,” said Auchinlek, in Beirut to confer with Alexander on all that was happening in Iraq. “That’s Erwin Rommel over there on the other side, and he’s now got three good mobile divisions. Don’t think he’ll sit on his backside like he did in the withdrawal from Libya. He’ll come after us, mark my words.”

Auchinlek was a very astute man.

Chapter 14

On the 25th of March, Operation Eisenfall began. Rommel had massed his three mobile divisions on the road stretching from the T4 Pumping Station, through Palmyra and on to T3. To British aerial recon, it looked like an immense iron spear on the ground, with the tip at T4 ready to strike through the outer shield of the 31st Infantry division. Warned by the Auk, Alexander had positioned his forces accordingly, with the 25th Armor Brigade in reserve, well behind the 46th Infantry Division where the attack was expected.

But Rommel seldom did what he thought his enemy might expect.

South of Palmyra, its lines scattered along the long rocky outcrop of Jebel Leptar, General Miles’ 56th “Black Cat” Division held the extreme right of the British position. That was where Rommel was going. He did not have his three divisions lined up to follow one another west as a great spear. Instead, he had them all abreast for a big move due south.

2nd Panzer opened the attack against the 46th Division, but at the far right of its lines, very near the sharp range that aimed northwest towards Palmyra. The attack would be made against the 139th Infantry Brigade under Brigadier Vickers. which was screening the rail line that looped through difficult ground in the “Basiri Gap.” That was a rail spur that serviced mining operations just south of that range, and Rommel’s first objective was to capture the rail station at Al Basiri and make it his forward depot for the drive south.

To assist this operation, the whole of the 7th SS Prinz Eugen Mountain Division would scale that ridge and push for the rail line beyond its southern edge. It split northeast of the gap, with the two ridges looking like hands of the clock. The big hand, pointed at 1:00, was aimed right at Palmyra. The little hand was Jebel Lebtar, pointed a little shy of 3:00. That was where Rommel sent the 16th Panzer Division, right around the end of that 3:00 ridge. Beyond that to the east, was the 101st Panzer Brigade and then the Wiking SS, both moving south to attack the 56th London Division. The iron was falling hard on Miles, and he and his men had already felt its bite when they were initially pushed out of Palmyra by Guderian.

The main German attack would fall on the 169th “Queens Brigade” under Brigadier Lyne, on the extreme right, and the 168th Brigade under Davidson to its left. Against each of these two brigades, Rommel was sending a full reinforced panzer division, with the 16th hitting Davidson, and the Wikings hitting Lyne. The results of that attack would not be hard to predict, and the field phones were soon ringing loudly at Major-General Eric Miles’ HQ in the small village of Al Ulayaniyah.

Like most men who had risen to command at his level, Miles had won his DSO and Military Cross in the First War, and was “Mentioned in Dispatches” five times, so he was no slouch. He was a Brigadier in France and Belgium, and suffered through the evacuation at Dunkirk. After a brief stint with the 42nd Division, they gave him the 56th, and sent him to Sir Edward Quinan’s 10th Army forming up in Persia. It was there that his 56th Division was moved from Iraq to Syria, where its acquaintance with German panzer divisions had left it bruised and needing rest.

By now it had time to refit and receive replacements for the two battalions that had been largely destroyed in the previous action at Palmyra. But the hammer was falling again, double loaded this time, and Miles sent an immediate message to Quinan: My Division heavily engaged east and south of Jebel Lebtar. Situation doubtful.

Doubtful indeed. It was Rommel, doing what he had demonstrated time and again in Libya. He would find a flank and turn it as the first action of any major offensive, and if Richard O’Connor had been there, he would have seen what was happening immediately. Unfortunately, O’Connor was over a thousand miles away, his troops assaulting the Italians at Mareth after the Germans pulled out their infantry there. The good news had come in earlier that day—the Italians were retreating! By Mid-day, so was Miles and his 56th Infantry Division.

Now Alexander and Quinan had to decide how best to react. “We’ve been hoodwinked,” said Quinan. “Rommel hit Miles on our flank.”

“So it seems,” said Alexander. “And here it looked as though he was about to come head and shoulders against General Freeman and the 46th.”

“He’s hit Freeman too,” said Quinan, “again, right on his easternmost flank.”

“Well that looks to be a spoiling attack,” said Alexander.

“No, I think he wants to cut off the Basiri Gap. Then we won’t be able to send anything through to help out Miles, and he’ll be stuck over there on the other side of this ridge all on his own. What’s it called?”

Alexander squinted at the map. “Jabal Ghanim. Sits there like a damn brick wall, and yes, the gap is our only way to get Miles any help, but should we? All we might send is the 25th Armored Brigade, but even then, I don’t like that fight. Miles said he’s been hit by at least two good German Divisions. One more brigade won’t help all that much. To my mind, he’s on the wrong side of the fence, and we ought to pull him out of there.”

“Well he can’t move south,” said Quinan. “There’s nothing there but the bloody Syrian Desert.”

“Yes, but if he can fall back towards the southern end of Basiri Gap, then he can use this road on the far side of Jabal Ghanim. In fact, we’ll need him there in any case. That’s the road to Damascus.”

That fell like too much lemon in the tea, and both men could feel the tension rising. “You think he might be after Damascus?” asked Quinan.

“Possibly, but more likely a turning maneuver,” said Alexander. “If he tries to turn our flank, we’ve got that nice brick wall there.”

“Why would he do that?” said Quinan. “Damascus would be a real prize, and this is Rommel….”

Yes, this was Rommel. When you could take something of value, he would, and he was a master of the indirect approach in battle, and right in his element here. That Syrian desert that Quinan assumed to be so impassible for Miles to use in any retreat, was as good as a four-lane highway to Rommel. He had seen all that and worse in Libya, though he did not yet have the time to really brief his troops on how they must fight in the desert.

“Damascus,” said Quinan.

“That’s a far throw,” said Alexander. “Larminat’s Free French Division is posted there if he tries it.

“That won’t be enough,” said Quinan. “50th Northumbrian just passed through Rayak on the way here. We could stop that column and turn it about for Damascus.”

Alexander thought about that. He had summoned the 50th when it arrived, because he wanted to use it to open his own big offensive, something that had taken long hours of meticulous planning. Now here was Rommel, stealing his thunder and spoiling the show. They were all set to kick off in 48 hours. He was going to bring up the 50th, and all of 1st Armored, and then push right for Palmyra again, only this time heavily reinforced.

A stickler for details and fine-tuned arrangements on the field, Alexander did not like being upstaged like this. His enemy wasn’t doing what he wished, and there was a part of his mind that wanted to see this whole affair as nothing more than a spoiling attack on Rommel’s part. This is what he voiced next to Quinan.

“By Jove, they must have gotten wind of our operation. Just when we’re getting ready to tee up, Rommel picks on Miles and threatens to turn our flank. Why, its 140 miles to Damascus from the German positions now, over 220 kilometers.”

“Well sir,” said Quinan. “The Brandenburgers ran all the way from Aleppo to Baghdad, so I wouldn’t put it past Rommel to make a run for Damascus.”

“But what if he’s simply trying to foil our plans? This could be nothing more than a demonstration.”

“Then I’d say he’s doing a bang up job of that.” Quinan folded his arms, and a runner came in at that moment, saluting with a message in his other hand.

“Sir, General Wordsworth reports he’s getting some heavy artillery fire, and the Germans have been reoccupying some of the high ground they gave up last week.”

“Thank you, Corporal.” Alexander took the message, somewhat perturbed. “Oh, and in the future, there’s no need to announce your message. Simply deliver it.”

“Sir!” The chastened Corporal saluted, and wisely withdrew.

Wordsworth had the 31st Indian Armored Division, though it was mostly infantry, with two brigades on the line, and its small tank brigade in reserve.

“There’s your spoiling attack,” said Quinan. “This bit on the flank against Miles is the main push. I’ll stake my first born on that.”

“Even so,” said Alexander, “we still have the option of going forward with our own offensive. I could throw five armored brigades at T4 in 24 hours, and the Northumbrian Division was my follow up force. I hate to see all those plans go into the ash can.”

“Yes sir,” said Quinan, “But we ought to be flexible here.”

“I understand, but if we carry on, we can set Rommel back on his right foot. He dances to the center of the ring, and wants me to chase him. But if I bore in, get inside and start body punching, there’s no way he can dally about with any idea about going south to Damascus. I say we just go forward with Operation Gladiator. Let’s make him dance to our tune—not the other way around.”

“So do we bring up the 50th as planned?”

“I should think so. No sense getting unnerved by this attack.”

“Well he’ll be all of two days getting up here. In that time, Rommel could be well on his way to Damascus.” Quinan seemed a bit edgy.

“Nonsense,” said Alexander. “But do get word to General Miles. Have him fall back on Basiri Gap, and screen that road, just in case.”

“Very good, sir.”

As commanding Generals often get their way, the British would decide to call Rommel’s bluff. Alexander immediately felt buoyed up by the decision. He was attacking, and all on schedule with his well-planned operation, and not forced instead to start moving divisions all about the desert in response to what his enemy was doing. He took a deep breath, and smiled, hands on his hips and ready for the fight ahead.

And he had just made his first big mistake.

Rommel was the first to see it.

He was in his command vehicle when the latest recon report came in. There was a long column of British infantry in the central valley coming up through Baalbek to Al Qusayr. British Armor was also spotted moving up towards the front beyond T4 the previous evening. The British were planning to answer his offensive with one of their own.

In anticipation of that possibility, he had set up a strong Pakfront forward of his infantry, and collected the PzJag battalions from various divisions at the one place he thought they might strike—the T4 Pumping station, just as they were reported to have done so before. Time was now of the essence. Fortunately, the 31st Infantry Division was just off the trains at Homs, and this would be more than enough to stop this attack. In the interest of caution, he would also send orders to the 101st Panzer Brigade to halt south of Palmyra, just in case. But Wiking and 16th Panzer would still continue with their planned drive south. That attack had broken through the British flank guard, and was ready to roll.

Alexander had been on the road from Baalbek, where he had seen off the tail end of the Northumbrian Division. He was eager to get to Al Qusayr, where his forward HQ had been established, wanting news of the offensive that launched that morning, right on schedule. He did not have to wait to reach his headquarters. A jeep was coming south, sirens wailing, command flags flapping in the wind, with a staff Lieutenant Hill looking for the General. He pulled up in a cloud of dust, leaping from his vehicle and rushing over the Alexander’s staff car with a stiff salute and more news than Alexander wanted.

“Sir,” he said. “Word from Miles and the 56th on the right. He’s been overrun.”

“Overrun?” Alexander waited.

“Yes sir. Only one brigade made it back to the ridge road as ordered, and the Germans are through Basiri Gap.”

“I see… And Gladiator?”

“Heavy fighting along the main front sir. No definitive news there yet. You’ll likely learn more at HQ. I was sent to inform you concerning General Miles situation.”

Alexander now had good reason for concern. Miles was on the wrong side of Jabal Ghanim, the ‘Brick Wall,’ and the news that he had only managed to get a single brigade back to the road was deeply disturbing. It spoke of power on that flank. Quinan had been correct.

“Lieutenant. Has 1st Armored been committed?”

“Yes sir, all but 2nd Armored Brigade. It moved cross country to reach the front last night and got a bit jumbled. They’re sorting it out.”

“And the 50th?”

“They moved up right behind the main attack sir, as ordered—one brigade forward; two back.”

“You’ve a radio in that jeep?”

“Yes sir.”

“Well they damn well ought to put one on my staff car. Go and get a message off to General Briggs. Tell him to hold 2nd Armored Brigade in place pending further developments. That goes for the whole of 50th Division as well. And where is General Quinan?”

“He’s at HQ, sir.”

“Very well. I’ll be there directly.”

Alexander wanted a map. The next gap in that Brick Wall was 50 kilometers south, on the road to Mihassah. My God, he thought. What’s happened to the Black Cats? If General Miles had the presence of mind to get there, he could at least use that last Brigade to cover that pass. It seemed that in spite of his determination not to dance to the enemy’s tune, this was something more—a full orchestra! Whatever Rommel was sending round his flank was on a rampage, and it went right through Miles as if he wasn’t even there. Two brigades lost…

God help us, he thought. That man is going for Damascus after all. Unless Quinan has already broken through, I may have no recourse other than a major change of plans now. I’ve gone and thrown everything up north…. But there’s still that Provisional Brigade that came in from Crete, and Boy Browning. Something might be done yet.

Damn! This is maddening.

“Driver!” he said sharply. “Get us to the bloody HQ, and be quick about it!”

Chapter 15

From long years of experience, Rommel knew that he needed three good panzer divisions and infantry support in any major offensive. Advances could proceed at breakneck speed, but with every mile gained, there was an open flank somewhere that would be exposed to enemy counterattack.

In this case, he had been forced to commit his last infantry division to backstop the front at T4, but he was not concerned. That ‘Brick Wall’ Alexander referred to in his planning was going to be his infantry. If it protected the British right flank, it would also serve to guard his own left. The last of the British 56th Division had retreated hastily down the road he wanted, undoubtedly towards the small pass near Mihassah.

Once I get there, he thought, I’ll be half way to Damascus. The terrain is not good on that second leg. There’s a lot of stony ground ahead, broken by wadis coming off that long bony ridge that points the way to the city. I’ll just have that one good road. Wiking Division went cross country, south of this lava field that screens the Mihassah Pass, but there’s a much bigger one up ahead, truly massive, so there will be no way to swing south around Damascus on any wide envelopment. General Gille will have to turn west soon, and then pick up the same road I have 2nd Panzer on now.

The next break in the terrain south of Mihassah is this town here—Ad Dumayr, another 70 kilometers southwest. There’s an air strip there that could be useful, and the rail line from Damascus passes through that town. I must get there before the British can reinforce that area strongly.

He smiled.

I am doing what I have heard the American General boast about—Patton. I am holding them by the nose at T4, and kicking them in the ass with my Panzer divisions. But I’ve been doing this all along. I would have done it all the way to Cairo in Libya and Egypt, if not for that damnable heavy British armor. Strange that there has been no sign of it here. They sent it to Syria before, when the Wiking division was deployed here earlier, but not a whisper of it this time….

Brigadier Lewis Owen Lyne was a tall, heavy set man, quick to smile, a bully boy for the Army since he joined in 1921. Yet he looked like half a man when he came stumbling in to the HQ hut at Mihassah, looking for General Miles. His Brigade was gone, the 169th, all men who had the special distinction of being designated “The Queen’s Brigade” back home. They took that moniker with them to Syria, but that is where it died. It was Lyne’s troops who took the brunt of the casualties when Lübbe’s 2nd Panzer attacked south of Palmyra, and now it was his Brigade to go down to a man in the wild stampede of the shattered right flank of the 56th. When Rommel did the kicking, Lyne was in his way.

The morale of the Brigade had been low to begin with, now it was nonexistent, and it showed on Lyne’s face when he found Miles and made his report. There was a bloodied bandage on his right arm, but it did not stop him from saluting. “Sir,” he said, his voice catching in his throat until he mastered himself and went on. “I regret to report that my Brigade has been overrun. The HQ staff and a few men from the artillery were the only ones to get out, and now that I’m here, I wish I’d gone down with my men.”

Miles looked him over, sympathetically. “How’s that right arm?”

“Just a scratch sir. It’s nothing.” It was a little more than nothing, but Lyne was giving his CO the stiff upper lip.

“Well, it won’t be any consolation, but we lost the whole of Davidson’s brigade as well. Brigadier Birch and the 167th were the only troops that got out looking anything like an organized force. Damn if we didn’t get our hats handed to us in this one. The Black Cats have been run right off the field by the wolves. Three bloody Panzer Divisions, and that SS Mountain Division came up over the Jebel country as well and damn near cut the road behind us. The whole bloody line went pear shaped on me. The flank is a complete shamble.”

“I’m sorry sir,” said Lyne.

“Not your fault,” said Miles. “If I had known what was coming at us, I would have pulled back much earlier. The SS Motorized division got completely round your right.”

“The men fought hard, sir, but we just couldn’t hold them.”

Miles nodded, pursing his lips. “The whole division is hopping about on one leg now, but I still need you. Davidson got back as well, but he’s not on his feet. They’ve brought up a Provisional Brigade, all the chaps that made it off Crete. It’s yours. Find yourself a staff car and motor on down to Ad Dumayr. That’s where the Brigade is assembling. We’ll get you some help as soon as possible.”

Lyne was surprised to be given anything more than a latrine squad to command, but he saluted again, still trying to find himself after what he and his men had just been through.

“Have that arm looked at,” said Miles, “then get yourself a good meal before you leave. You’ll have the French behind you at Damascus, but I’m afraid you’ll be all we’ve got down there until Alexander can shake some armor loose from Gladiator. Do what you can to delay them on the road. Fall back to Damascus if you must, but we need to hold there. Understand? And Lyne… I’ll put in a good word for you with the brass up top—held in the face of overwhelming odds, and such. That sort of thing will look good in the dispatches. So, chin up and off you go. Here’s your second chance.”

Third chance, thought Lyne as he saluted again, this time with a bit of a wince. He would later go on to command the 7th Armored Division and lead it into Germany in another telling of these events, but for now, he was still a dispirited and troubled man, the wound to his right arm being the least of it. And his ordeal in the Syrian Desert was far from over. Lyne could already see the storm cloud of dust being kicked up by the Germans to the northeast. They were coming on like bad weather, and he forsook any thought of food, looking to find a jeep as quick as he could.

He would not have much time to rest at Ad Dumayr either, for the SS Wiking Division had swung around that smaller lava field to the north and was already finding the road south of Mihassah. In fact, he would not have any time at Ad Dumayr at all. It would serve as a good delaying position, with hills to the left and a lava field on the right. But that field was no more than 10 kilometers wide at that point, and it might be passable.

When he reached Ad Dumayr, Lyne found himself in command of five new battalions, all men who had been in Creforce the previous month. “Well, gentlemen,” he said to his battalion C.O.s on arrival. “Don’t feel bad about be run off Crete. Rommel’s chased me half way across the Syrian Desert, and that’s his dust up that road, so stand lively. We’ll dig in here and hold as long as we can, but if hard pressed, I have orders to fall back on Damascus. I’ll want the recon troops on the far right. All the line infantry should dig in between those hills and the lava bed.”

They were all the rest of that night digging in, while Lyne kept a nervous watch to the northwest. He knew the Germans operated day and night, and the last thing he wanted was to have a column of enemy tanks come barreling into his lines in the dark. Each battalion had no more than four Mark-I 37mm AT guns, and they had been relatively useless against the latest German tanks.

The morning of the 28th, word came that the company of French Armored cars that had been out on forward recon was attacked and driven off by the Germans, who were now only a little more than 15 kilometers from Ad Dumayr. Where was the help Miles had promised him? At noon he had his answer, but it was not what he expected. His new Provisional Brigade was right astride the main road and rail line from Damascus. He heard a distant train whistle, but then all went silent. Then he learned a train had come up from Beirut through Damascus, but stopped a few kilometers to the rear.

An hour later he heard the distinctive tramp of marching feet on the paved road, and got into his jeep to ride back and have a look. There came a column of infantry, rifles slung over their shoulders, and tins, canteens and helmets rattling as they marched. A young officer came up, wearing a red beret, and the Lieutenant saluted smartly.

“Lieutenant John Frost,” he said coolly, “1st Paras are here.” The man smiled.

“Airborne?” said Lyne.

“No, we came up by train this time. Too many fighters about to go jumping out of a plane. The whole brigade’s behind me. I’m just out on point. Where do you want us?”

Brigadier Lyne broke into a broad smile. “I don’t suppose you brought any six pounders?”

“Half a dozen or so,” said Frost. “But few trucks.”

“Marvelous. You see, we’ll be looking at a bloody Panzer Division soon. Possibly tonight. They tore up the 56th something fierce when they came around our flank, and I’m posted here with the Provisionals to try and slow the bastards down. Now, my men are dug in well astride the main road, but I’ll want you chaps on the right…. Out there.” He pointed east, across the dark, stony lava bed that reached up towards Ad Dumayr. “I’ve got a single battalion out there now—44th Recon. Can you reinforce them?”

“Good enough,” said Frost. He took off his beret, and replaced it with his helmet, then looked over his shoulder and whistled. His arm indicated where he wanted the column to go. Then he tipped the rim of his helmet with a wink, and marched off. Frost and his men took up a position just off the flank of Lyne’s main line, right next to the 1st Argyll & Sutherland Highlanders. That was the regiment that went by the nickname of “The Thin Red Line,” only it was khaki and olive drab now. Fitch had 3rd Battalion to the immediate right of Frost, but Dobie took 1st battalion south of the recon troops Lyne had already posted.

General Miles had told the Brigadier that he had his second chance, and it would be just his luck that the Wiking Division had taken the lead, the same troops that had cut up the 169th Brigade. Frost had his men in position, though the ground was so rugged and crusty hard that there was little in the way of digging they could do. The Paras took advantage of any undulation in the terrain, finding small rises to deploy behind, and setting up their MGs and Mortar teams. But Colonel John Frost had never seen the like of the men he would face that day in their desert camouflage uniforms.

His position was hit by 2nd Germania Battalion, with a Motorcycle recon company and a battalion of tanks in support. Needless to say, the few Piats he had, 3 in mortars and Vickers MGs were not going to stop those panzers. His line was hit with tanks, and forced back until the British brought up their 601st Tank Destroyer, with a dozen Achilles TDs mounting the 3-inch main gun. It was a good weapon, (76mm), with enough penetration power to defeat any German Mark III or IV tank. Later it would be upgraded with an even more powerful gun, the QF 17-Pounder that could penetrate 140mm of frontal armor at 500 meters.

Lyne’s Provisional Brigade put up a good fight from their prepared positions, until 4th Royal Sussex Battalion broke and retreated back to his HQ post. Red faced and shouting, he rallied the men and reformed the companies. Then he saw what had driven them back. 1st Battalion of the Wiking Panzer Regiment had 16 Lions with the 75mm main gun, 17 more Pz IV-F1’s, and 18 lighter Leopards with 50mm guns.

Soon both Dobie and Fitch were engaged to the right of Frost’s position, though no attack had been put in on the 44th Recon Battalion of the Provisional Brigade. The Germans were picking their targets, massing both tanks and highly skilled supporting infantry at selected spots in the line. Frost was just unlucky enough to have been “selected.” That handful of 6 Pounders had never made it up to his front. They were still back near the rail line waiting for trucks, but there were a few Deacon 6-pounders mounted on truck beds with that Achilles battalion, and they rolled his way to give him some much needed AT gun support.

Unfortunately, the German tanks fired back and made short work of them. Of the dozen that came up, only five were left in twenty minutes’ time.

Alexander had finally realized that this was Rommel he was up against, and the man would seldom come at you where you expected him. The wily German General had been completely undeterred by operation Gladiator, and he had raced south towards Damascus behind the long mountain ridge, cutting his rail line back to the city. Cut or not, he could still use it to get troops south, and he had ordered Keller’s 1st Armored Brigade and the 150th Infantry Brigade of the Northumbrian Division to move as quickly as possible by rail.

They were arriving on the morning of the 29th, as Combe’s 2nd Armored Brigade was in the thick of a big fight with 2nd Panzer Division. Rommel had ordered those troops to attack northwest into the valley to try and cut the main roads south and isolate Damascus.

Everything was cascading south and east to Ad Dumayr, where Lyne’s Provisional Brigade and Frost had held out a full day in their blocking positions. But slowly, the great weight of the Wiking Division was building up behind that dyke, and organizing for an attack the following morning. Behind them, the first regiment of the 2nd Panzer Division was arriving, having been relieved of its position defending Mihassah Gap on the ridge line.

The German attack pushed Dobie’s 1st Battalion off the flank of 44th Recon, and it was soon clear that the Germans had seen this sector as ripe for envelopment. Fitch, with 3rd Battalion, was driven into Frost’s lines, and had only five squads left. While Lyne was fighting to hold his position, he could see that the Paras were simply too lightly armed to hold his flank. His situation was further complicated when he learned that the Germans had pushed northwest to Al Qutayfah, cutting the road to Damascus from the north. Now any help coming down by road or rail would have to get through the 16th Panzer Division, and he was alone to face the wrath of the Wikings.

He would have to fall back, realizing the Free French were still behind him, and that might be enough if he got his troops back to their lines. That night he would fall back 15 kilometers down the road to Adhra, which was still 20 kilometers from Damascus. The rail line diverged south away from Ad Dumayr, eventually swinging south of Damascus. So he got his Provisional Brigade set up between Adhra and those cold steel rails, with the Paras now out of the lava beds and into a dry lakebed. Behind them there was more cultivated ground, with many small farms fanning out from Damascus.

That night Rommel pushed a supply column down the road to Ad Dumayr, making that road and rail junction his new forward depot. The ground rumbled with the arrival of the three Schwere companies attached to the 101st Panzer Brigade. There were 34 of the VK-75 Lions, and 15 of the rare new prototype model, the VK-90 with the new experimental 90mm main gun.

Once it had been the British to stun and awe their adversary with tanks so advanced they could not be stopped. That season was ended, and as a consequence, Germany had put tremendous effort into its Armor development programs. All these new tanks were the result.

Behind those tanks came the rest of 16th Panzer Division. Rommel was going to now use 16th Panzer to hold off all of Alexander’s reinforcements, and then double down on his main drive for Damascus by throwing on 2nd Panzer.

Alexander was also rushing anything he could find to Damascus by road, rail and airlift. That amounted to the 2nd Brigade of 1st Para Division under Brigadier Downs, and Number 2 and 4 Commandos also came in by rail from Heifah.

The battle for the city had begun.